


Tokens From Nice Girls

by nonky



Category: Being Human (US/Canada)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 23:18:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17990381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: Aidan only wished the sex was what made Rebecca important.Spoilers: Up to episode 1 x 07, and the infamous home movie.





	Tokens From Nice Girls

He should leave her alone. Aidan could feel Bishop's fingerprints almost like a greasy imprint on the DVD. He wasn't going to just burst in flailing with misguided rescue efforts when Rebecca had been the one to leave him.

He deserved the rejection, certainly. He deserved much more comeuppance than Rebecca hurting his feelings . . . but that didn't mean he was going to let her torment him. He was clean. He would stay clean. Eventually, maybe, she would be ready for his help.

Josh and Sally's reactions told him his next move – absolutely nothing. He should toss out the disc and move on with as little upset as possible. Today he'd probably need an extra bag from the blood bank, and there would be dreams. But tomorrow was a new day, and every day without – dry, starving, empty, shrieking void – added up to something worthwhile.

He planned to snap the disc and put it in the trash, but he wandered upstairs with it. By the time he was sliding it into his laptop, Aidan told himself he was playing detective. This was evidence. He could observe the details with cold focus and ignore the obvious titillation.

The room was small, cheap, but not one-hour rental. They would have thought about body disposal and covering up the murder. It looked pretty generic, with no view of a window to hint at a location. That poor man's family deserved closure.

Rebecca was heedless, gloating as she killed him, splashing it around to make more of a show. The grinding bounce of her hips increased as the blood burst from the rather overweight man like a pricked sausage. The scent of it came to Aidan like a revelation – something harsh and sweet, sexually fulfilling just from being there. If he had been there, he might have objected before the blood, but after he would have joined in.

He had known the dress was a fuck-you to him, a look-what-you're-missing. It was also an invitation not to miss it anymore. He could have Rebecca. She could feed from the blood whores and no one would die. His time with her could be separate from Bishop and the family. It could be thought out and practical. He could back off if he needed, and Aidan thought Rebecca cared a little about his sobriety.

He was the only alternative for her, and that was powerful. If she thought she needed to tempt him back, that meant she believed he could go on without drinking live. It was possible even Bishop thought a vampire might be able to change successfully.

But Aidan was restarting the show again and again, fangs sharp as they dug at his own lip. He was anticipating the blood. He was waiting for the garbled death rattle. The camera had just barely caught the plinking sound of single drops of heavy blood landing. When there was enough, flowing like the land of milk and honey, it made a noise like a tiny stream flowing down skin. His outrage was considerably eroded by his body's response.

Rebecca looked good, smooth and sleek, hot in black and determination. She looked like she was wearing her own scent as perfume, bringing it up to her neck to give the world a whiff of it. The only thing that honestly surprised him about the video was that she'd been wearing panties at all, though the graceful removal was a sexy trick.

He told himself he wasn't going to use the video the way it was intended, but there were limits to his composure. He made it quick and prayed Sally wouldn't pop through a wall and Josh wouldn't knock. He needed to get it out of his system, burn off all the fascination and dark urges; then the snuff film was as good as gone.

The hundreds of times after were some kind of skip in his conscience, a blind spot occupied almost exclusively by a redhead who breathed his name like she might love him. They were an exercise in perversion.

Bishop was right to send it, though the the lure wasn't the sick thrill of the blood fucking. Aidan had known what he'd see, and left it running because Rebecca had suffered for this. In that cheap, insulting room, tarted up for one dead man or another, her face gave her away. She was scared. This was not what she wanted to be, even if she couldn't go back to being the charming, independent nurse presumed dead.

Aidan tried to harden his heart, but he more than anybody should recognize Rebecca's look of mortal fear. He should ignore it, disregard the pleading in her lovely, dangerous eyes.

Except recovering his compassion would mean nothing without helping her.


End file.
